The Rebellious Ones

Empathy of a Woman

Thursday morning was a melancholy day for the factory men. There was no ray of sun as dark grey clouds covered the sky. And the worst thing was a sign hanging in the McQuaid Bakery that stated 'No Pies This Week,' in large cursive.

Cora had made minimum of her baked goods and wasn't as chipper. However she did not for get the spare bagel for her little newspaper boy.
The letter that was half opened laid between a jar of earl grey tea and rose tea.
The day went on, lunch happened with an icebox sandwich and then the Granville women appeared. Like always their faces were painted and held an air of snobbism to them. Under hushed gossip the state of the town beauty's looks caused rumors to arise.

Having no strength to concentrate on their gossip over tea. Her focus was on the half opened letter that was hidden between the earl green and rose tea canisters.

Dragging on through the day the sky slowly turned to a dark red. The factory smoke continued to puff up into the sky covering stars. The bakery had long closed hours ago with the heavy lock set and the closed sign hanging haphazardly on its nail.

A large sigh could be heard with clicking footsteps following. With much determination and skipping supper, Cora had finished making the dough for tomorrow morning. The courthouse clock showed it was quarter to nine. Placing her apron in the counter she finally reaches for the stowed away letter.

One simple flick released a fine papered letter from the envelope into her hand. The folds of the paper were neatly done as she unfolded the letter and began to read.

Dear Miss Cora McQuaid,

I would wish for you to cater a ball that will be held in my mansion in Granville. The ball will be a marvelous masquerade party. I request your donuts be made in all flavors. You shall not have to worry about any of the other foods. If you accept this offer you will receive a total of $50 in cash. The ball will be May 31st at the Bryn Du Mansion.

Sincerely,
D.W.

P. S. You are required to be dressed up. Please send a letter to the mansion if you desire a mask to be provided.

Cora's mouth twisted. Her brows furrowed in ward forming a wave of wrinkles on her face. Never before had she been requested to cater for an event. The only thing remotely close to catering an event was making cakes for women's tea parties in Granville. And she had no mask or clothing elegant enough for an event like a masquerade.

Nibbling on her finger she makes her way up the stairs to her apartment. Her shoes were left by the door next to her other pair of shoes, her apron thrown into the dirty laundry pile. Finally reaching the bedroom she opens up the hidden cupboard and pulls out the money jar.

Slipping out close to $10 dollars she places the jar back in its little hiding spot and stuffs the money into her pocketbook. Tomorrow during the lunch break she would see what Stanford Clothing Store has on the clearance rack.

As Cora prepares for sleep she opens the bedroom windows allowing the humid summer breeze to carry into the apartment. A sticky sweat had been covering Cora's body for most of the day. It was finally the time of day in which she could take a cooling shower and wear the thinnest of her nightgowns.

Along with the summer breeze a lively jazz tune entered the night as the Last Chance Saloon celebrated their owner being stable. The night he came to her kitchen in a bloody mess it was quite. At least a day later, the night had noise to it giving her the message that he was doing well. She missed his morning visit only by the slightest.

The tiles in the bathroom were chilling against her feet as the summer heat filled the room. Her dress forms a pool of a soft pastel green on the white and black checkered tile. Cora's left shoulder bra strap had barely slipped to her elbow when a loud knocking could be heard on the kitchen window. Grabbing a towel she rushes through the hall way as a man's voice can be heard calling out.

"Aye! Miss McQuad! Are you still up? Miss McQuad!" It was the voice of Aiden who was standing on the fire escape with a large grin. That was, until he saw her in a towel, leading to the young man's face to turn a bright red. His happy demeanor turn to embarrassment but he still continued to talk once the kitchen window was opened. "Miss McQuad, Jack is doing pretty good. He'll more than likely recover fully thanks to you. He wanted to come himself but we all told him that you'd be mad at him for moving to much."

The young lad shifts to sit on the railing, a blush still on his cheeks as he looks in the direction of Last Chance. "There's a big party happening tonight if you'd like to go." He sends a smile back towards her, "but, you'll need to at least get dressed."

The tables had turned on who was embarrassed as Cora realized she was talking to a man outside her kitchen window. "I'm sorry Aiden but I really must take a shower and head to bed. I have work in the morning."

A pout forms on his hairless face, "Jack knew you would say that. So..." his hands clap together "he'd think you'd like to at least be at his place above the speakeasie. That's where he's been since last night. That means get your dress on or I'll be drag'n ya across town."

In a fever blur of motion Cora was rushing to the bedroom to quickly throw on an outfit and tidy up her worn make up. Dressed in her best Sunday dress and a matching hat that tilted across her blonde head. She returned to the kitchen window in her signature pale rose pink clothing.
"Aiden?" She calls out the window to an empty fire escape.

"Miss McQuaid! Come on down." The young man stood at the base of the fire escape ladder. With a shake of her head no, Cora hung out the window.

"You better know boy that I am a lady and I don't climb down ladders. Especially fire escapes!"

A laugh escape Aiden's mouth causing several wrinkles, "oh come now. You're not even an old maid yet. I've heard stories of ya riding horses bareback and being the best bullfrog hunter. You're still a legend out by the river."

A sigh escapes the painted lips of Cora's, "fine. However, you most never tell anyone I climbed something like this. It's so unladylike," a bang echos the alley as she hopes out of the window, "You know no man wants a girl who plays in the dirt and is rude."

Another laughs ripples off the alley at the comment. "You know men already think you're too independent and they can beat the money you make in this shop."

A click rings out as the ladder unlatches and hits the brick with a thud. Fast footsteps clamber down and stop once on the brick.

"Well, I guess if my reputation is running that much I guess being a little unladylike won't hurt it that much more."

"Now Miss McQuaid, lets get you to your destination."